


The Pocket-book

by starlightwalking



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 02:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19122604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: The reader may remark that it is absurd that Javert could be mistaken for one such as Marius Pontmercy; the writer concedes this point, but does not dismiss the possibility.





	The Pocket-book

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Barricade Day! I almost didn't pull this together, but I've written something for Barricade Day for the past five years and I didn't want this to be the year I broke that streak. Have a weird little oneshot based on an extremely minor detail I noticed when I first read the brick about...yeah, five years ago, probably.

Jean Valjean, on his side, seemed to have but one thought. He resumed:

"He lives in the Marais, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, with his grandfather. I do not recollect his name."

Jean Valjean fumbled in Marius' coat, pulled out his pocket-book, opened it at the page which Marius had pencilled, and held it out to Javert.

There was still sufficient light to admit of reading. Besides this, Javert possessed in his eye the feline phosphorescence of night birds. He deciphered the few lines written by Marius, and muttered: "Gillenormand, Rue des Filles-du Calvaire, No. 6."

Then he exclaimed: "Coachman!"

The reader will remember that the hackney-coach was waiting in case of need.

Javert kept Marius' pocket-book.

          — _Les Misérables_ , Hapgood translation

* * *

Javert kept Marius' pocket-book.

He did not, of course, remember this. There were far more pressing concerns on his mind, namely, one Jean Valjean. The pocket-book had completely escaped his mind by the time that he, full of despair, let himself tumble into the rushing waters of the Seine.

His death was swift and brutal, much as he had been in life. It does not do to dwell on details of demise so dreadful; we press forward now, as one must not make too many journeys down paths of a hedge-maze one knows lead only to dead ends.

The body of the Inspector was carried down the river, not to be discerned from various other flotsam—at least, not unless a passer-by caught sight of the hideous scowl upon his face in the dim starlight. "Mon Dieu," such a fellow may have exclaimed, less troubled by the deceased than by the naked terror so apparent upon it. A man once constrained is now open, far too late for such vulnerability to be valuable.

This passer-by might have been a gentleman, though to what end he would be strolling about the banks of the Seine in the sudden aftermath of the city's unrest is uncertain. Nonetheless, were this gentleman of a stalwart conscience, he may have immediately hastened to the nearest gendarme to inform him of the situation.

If the gendarme, troubled again by the strange goings-on of Paris that day previous, considered the possibility of the grotesque corpse to belong to some unfortunate insurgent, he may have heeded the gentleman's advice and called for assistance in fishing the body out of the river. This gendarme could have been unfamiliar with the Inspector's visage, if not his reputation, and even should he have known Javert's likeness the dreadfulness of the scowl may have caused him to doubt. Nonetheless, even were he the dead man's blood-brother, it is only proper for a dutiful gendarme to search for identification outside his own memory.

It is now that the reader would do well to remember, as Javert did not, Marius' pocket-book. For, if the submersion of the body was brief and the pocket-book somewhat protected from the elements, the address of Marius' grandfather would still be legible upon the pages.

And should this gendarme open the Inspector's coat and draw out the damp object, such a request as written upon it would not be so easily ignored. The message yet read:

          "My name is Marius Pontmercy. Carry my body to my grandfather, M. Gillenormand, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6, in the Marais."

The gendarme, upon further inspection, may have discerned Javert's true identity. But it is more in his character to accept the first offered explanation, and thus with only a little doubt within him, embark upon the journey to Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire No. 6. It was thus that Javert made the trip to the house of M. Gillenormand twice in the space of one long night, the first living and the second dead.

A hackney-coach was called upon to make the trip. The gendarme, not as upstanding as first perceived, perhaps wished to escape the more harrowing duties his fellows embarked upon that night in stamping out the last of the rebellion in running this perfunctory errand. The reader may remark that it is absurd that Javert could be mistaken for one such as Marius Pontmercy; the writer concedes this point, but does not dismiss the possibility.

The porter could quite easily have ignored a further knock at the door after such a busy night, but suspecting the arrival of another doctor for the master's grandson, he came to greet the gendarme.

"Is this the residence of a M. Gillenormand?"

"He is here, yes. Are you here about Marius?"

"He lies dead in the coach."

"Dead! In the coach!" the porter might have exclaimed.

"Yes. Here; I have his pocket-book."

The porter, having seen the half-dead Marius carried up to drawing-room, would not be so easily convinced that the young man was again delivered upon death's door to his own door. Still, he may have examined the pocket-book in any regard, and demanded to see the body himself. It was not the porter's place to do so, but he did not appreciate these government-types' condescension.

Upon observing the grimace of the Inspector, it was indeed apparent that this man was dead, but the porter was satisfied that there had been some mistake.

"This is not him," the porter informed the gendarme. "That is the pocket-book, but not the man. There has been an error." If the porter happened to peer closer, he may even have recognized Javert as the deliverer of Marius to the house some hours earlier. "Why, he is the one who brought the booby hither! Is he not with your crowd, Inspector?"

"Inspector!" the gendarme might have cried, suddenly remembering Javert's reputation and connecting it to the man before him. "I believe you may be correct. Here, if the boy's grandfather wants it, have the pocket-book."

Thus was the last of Marius' possessions returned to him, and Javert's body first identified—if, indeed, it was so, and the pocket-book did not disintegrate in the waters of the Seine by the time the Inspector was lifted from of that dreadful river. This is, after all, naught but conjecture on the part of the writer, and it is the lot of the reader to evaluate the likelihood of such a scenario.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/) or on my Les Mis blog [@tommorrowcomes](http://tommorrowcomes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
